I cam' o'er the muir.
[In the Skene MS. collection of old Scottish tunes, circa 1615, published in 1838, with an introductory inquiry, by William Dauney, Esq., there occurs a beautiful melody, headed, "Alace yat I came owr the moor, and left my love behind me." From this the modern tune of "The last time I cam' o'er the muir" has been manufactured; but, according to Jlr. Dauney, the ancient air has suffered sadly by the change, being in its original state much superior to the modern set. All the old words, except the title, are lost. Ramsay wrote the present song. Burns thought it unworthy of the tune, but admitted that it was too long established in public favour to be supplanted.]
The last time I cam' owre the muir,
I left my love behind me:
Ye powers, what pains do I endure
When soft ideas mind me!
Soon as the ruddy morn display'd
The beaming day ensuing,
I met betimes my lovely maid,
In fit retreats for wooing.
We stray'd beside yon wand'ring stream,
And talk'd with hearts o'erflowing;
Until the sun's last setting beam
Was in the ocean glowing.
I pitied all beneath the skies,
Even kings, when she was nigh me;
In raptures I beheld her eyes,
Which could but ill deny me.
Should I be call'd where cannons roar,
Where mortal steel may wound me,
Or cast upon some foreign shore,
Where dangers may surround me;
Yet hopes again to see my love,
To feast on glowing kisses,
Shall make my cares at distance move,
In prospect of such blisses.
In all my soul there's not one place
To let a rival enter:
Since she excels in ev'ry grace,
In her my love shall centre.
Sooner the seas shall cease to flow,
Their waves the Alps shall cover,
On Greenland ice shall roses grow,
Before I cease to love her.
The neist time I gang ower the muir,
She shall a lover find me;
And that my faith is firm and pure,
Though I left her behind me;
Then Hymen's sacred bonds shall chain
My heart to her fair bosom;
There, while my being does remain,
My love more fresh shall blossom.
The Braes of Branksome.
[This appears in the second volume of the Tea Table Miscellany with the title of "The Generous Gentleman, a song to the tune of the Bonnie Lass of Branksome." It was written by Ramsay himself. Mr. Robert Chambers says the song was founded on a real incident. "The bonnie lass was daughter to a woman who kept an alehouse at the hamlet near Branksome Castle, in Teviotdale. A young officer, of some rank,—his name we believe was Maitland,—happened to be quartered somewhere in the neighbourhood, saw, loved, and married her. So strange was such an alliance deemed in those days, that the old mother, under whose auspices it was performed, did not escape the imputation of witchcraft."]
As I cam' in by Teviot side,
And by the braes of Branksome,
There first I saw my bonnie bride,
Young, smiling, sweet, and handsome.
Her skin was safter than the down,
And white as alabaster;
Her hair, a shining, waving brown;
In straightness nane surpass'd her.
Life glow'd upon her lip and cheek,
Her clear een were surprising,
And beautifully turn'd her neck,
Her little breasts just rising:
Nae silken hose with gushats fine,
Or shoon with glancing laces,
On her bare leg, forbad to shine
Weel-shaped native graces.
Ae little coat and bodice white
Was sum o' a' her claithing;
E'en these oer muckle;—mair delight
